


Alias

by Filthy_Bunny



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Angst, Car Sex, Established Relationship, Handcuffs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Roleplay, Series Spoilers, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2011-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 03:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthy_Bunny/pseuds/Filthy_Bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Callen dusts off an old undercover alias after Sam requests his help, but what is his partner's real agenda? Chaptered fic with spoilers for second half of season one, from episode 12 ('Past Lives') onwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of the Box

_Black Flag, 9pm.  
Be Tedrow.  
S._

That was the entire content of the text message. Callen frowned and ran his eyes over the words a few times before setting the phone down on the couch beside him. It wasn't unusual for he and Sam to meet for drinks after work, and the Black Flag had been one of their favoured haunts for years. But that abrupt tone usually indicated that Sam had something important to discuss, most likely related to a case; something that was bothering him too much to wait until morning. And there was one particular case that had been bothering Sam a great deal lately.

Dom had been missing for three weeks and four days. Callen knew this because Sam had reminded him at least twice that day. Callen wouldn't have been surprised if his partner was counting the hours, too. Everyone in the team had been blindsided by their colleague's abduction, but none had taken it quite as hard as Sam.

 _Be Tedrow._ That part didn't make sense. Callen's Jason Tedrow persona related to a different case entirely, one that was most definitely closed. He could not comprehend why Sam would make such a request. And the Black Flag was a bar they had only ever visited off-duty, so why would Sam want him using an undercover alias there in the first place?

His watch read 20:15. He sighed. How often did Sam let him down? Never. If his partner thought it was important, it was worth giving him the benefit of the doubt. Callen got up from the couch in the office, which was once again doubling as his motel room, and made his way past his teammates' desks to the corridor that led to the archives room.

Time to take Tedrow back out of his box.

* * *

Callen arrived at the bar a few minutes after nine and was stunned to find that Sam was not already there. Sam was never late – unless of course Callen was holding him up. Growing more agitated by the minute, Callen went to the bar and ordered a scotch. He glanced around the half-empty lounge. It had been a few months since he was last here. The pool table and some of the furniture had been rearranged, but overall it was the same as ever. Shabby, dimly lit, anonymous. This was not a place he and Sam had ever brought the rest of the team, or where anyone they knew was likely to turn up by coincidence. It was one of the bars they chose to visit when they required more privacy, somewhere they could go without worrying about hiding the intimacy of their relationship.

Callen turned back to the bar and saw that his scotch had arrived. As he took his first swig, the phone in his pocket buzzed. Another message.

 _Something came up. Sorry, G._

"Goddammit," Callen muttered. Now he was plain irritated. He'd gone along with Sam's request and dug out Tedrow's personal effects from the sealed box in the archives room, and even borrowed a shirt from Hetty's extensive wardrobe without permission; a violation of the worst order as far as the operations manager was concerned. And now he'd been stood up. He was tempted to send Sam a bitchy reply, but decided against it.

He paid the bartender, drained his glass, and went out to the parking lot at the rear, pondering whether or not he should call at Sam's place on his way back to the op centre. If he had to wait until morning to learn what this was all about, it would bug him all night. On the other hand he was a little wary of turning up unannounced. Things had been difficult between him and Sam lately.

Sam was preoccupied with Dom's disappearance and seemed determined to blame himself for it. He had been dealing with his struggle in typical Sam Hanna style: turning inward, refusing Callen's attempts at comfort, pounding the crap out of the punch bag in the op centre at every opportunity. This time it was worse than usual. Although his outward behaviour at work had more or less returned to normal, and his skills in the field hadn't suffered, he continued to keep Callen at a distance outside work. It was worrying Callen more than he let on. Normally he would have broken through Sam's defensive barriers by now, but they were withstanding every assault. Callen was frustrated, and missing Sam badly, but he had reluctantly agreed to give his partner the space he needed rather than keep pushing and risk doing more harm.

Callen's boots crunched on broken glass as he crossed the darkened parking lot. He fumbled in his pocket for his car keys, and for a moment the jangling noise of his keyring covered up the sound of footsteps moving swiftly towards him. He heard it too late to react. Another body came crashing into his, dragging him off his set path and slamming him face first into the mesh fence that hemmed in the parking lot.

"What the _fuck_ –" he gasped against the thick wire. In a now-automatic response, he jerked his elbow back into the solid torso pinning him in place to try and gain enough space to twist his body around, but he was held fast.

He knew it was Sam the instant he felt the warm breath on his neck. No one else he knew was as fast and soundless on their feet while still having the bulk to throw a grown man around like a ragdoll. And he knew his partner's scent only too well. Callen's mind spun wildly as he tried to make sense of events.

"Don't move," Sam's voice hissed in his ear. Callen heard the sound of Sam's SIG sliding from its holster, and a heartbeat later felt the weapon press against his spine.

Callen grimaced. He didn't waste a second on fear; his trust in Sam was unwavering. But it would have been nice to know he was going to be playing the punch bag in a surprise undercover op _before_ it actually began. Sam must have walked into something big to not have had time to warn him properly. Callen wondered who was watching them from the shadows.

Sam kicked Callen's feet further apart and shoved G's shoulders harder against the fence with one thick forearm.

"Where's your wallet?" he barked.

"Back pocket," Callen replied. Sam reached down, found the empty pocket, and moved across to the other. He made rather more contact with Callen's ass than was necessary, which Callen would have appreciated a lot more if he hadn't been worrying about who this show was being put on for. Sam pulled out the wallet and flipped it open.

" _Jason Tedrow,_ " he read aloud. "Just the man I'm looking for."

"Who the hell are you?" Callen asked, grudgingly agreeing to play along.

"Nobody," Sam said. "Where's your car?" Callen didn't reply, so Sam jabbed the gun harder into his back. "Your car."

"At the end of the lot. The black BMW."

"Not bad," Sam said. He stepped back a little and released the pressure on Callen's shoulders so he could stand straight. The gun never strayed. "Move."

"What?"

"Move your feet. _Walk_."

"You're not just going to take the car?"

"Nope. You're coming with me."

"Jesus, what the hell do you want?"

"We'll talk about that when we get there."

"Get where?"

"Enough questions." Sam grabbed him roughly by the back of his coat's collar and turned him in the right direction. "Now move before I decide to stop asking so nicely."

"Okay, okay. But I need my keys. I dropped them when you threw me into the fence."

"Pick 'em up. And don't even think about trying anything."

Callen crouched slowly and retrieved his keys from the glass-strewn tarmac. Standing again, he let Sam prod him in the direction of his car. There were only a few other vehicles in the lot, and as far as Callen could judge, not another living soul around. Sam ordered him into the driver's seat and he obeyed, keeping his hands in plain view on the steering wheel as Sam let himself into the back. A moment later the cold barrel of the SIG was back against Callen's neck.

"Drive," Sam told him. "I'll direct you. And stick to the speed limit. I don't want you attracting any unnecessary attention."

No car followed them as Callen pulled out of the parking lot. Sam directed him away from the heart of the city and towards the docks, where the roads were quieter, but despite keeping a close eye on his rear view mirror Callen never caught sight of any vehicle tailing his. Sam never dropped his act during the drive, leading Callen to suspect that he was wearing a wire – possibly a cam, too – and whoever his 'associates' were, they were listening in.

Eventually he pulled off onto an unlit private road that led between rows of large, squat, featureless buildings. There were a lot of abandoned warehouses on this side of the docks; empty, unsurveilled spaces that provided the perfect location for all kinds of criminal activity, and he and Sam had cornered more than a few suspects in places just like this in the course of their careers with NCIS.

"At the end, on your left," Sam said close to Callen's ear.

Callen slowed the BMW to a crawl, its tyres crunching on the cracked and broken concrete lane. He scanned what little of the drab surroundings were revealed in the headlights, but saw no other cars or even signs of recent activity. As the last warehouse came into view, he went to stop the car, but Sam nudged him again with the gun.

"Inside," he said.

A broad loading bay stood open, shutters rolled up, and Callen grudgingly turned the car inside. He held his breath as he waited for some sight that would begin to shed light on the situation: perhaps another vehicle, some armed men; some hint of what they were dealing with. But the huge interior was just as deserted as the entire complex, his lights picking out no more than a bank of trashed furniture and debris at the far end, and ugly scrawls of graffiti on the walls.

"Looks like you've been stood up," he said pointedly as he rolled the BMW to a halt. "Hope you're not too disappointed."

"Nope," Sam replied. "Everything's just how I want it. Give me your hands."

Callen frowned and hesitated before lifting both hands to where Sam could reach them. The frown deepened as Sam's cuffs clicked into place around his wrists. He sat in sullen silence, hands in his lap, as Sam climbed out of the car. He looked up as the door beside him swung open, but Sam's face was hidden from view.

"Get in the back seat," Sam said.

"What?"

"Back seat. _Now_." He reached in, grabbed the handcuffs and half-dragged Callen from the driver's seat.

"Seriously, what the _fuck_ ," Callen snarled, slipping out of character now as he was manhandled into the back of the car.

Sam shoved Callen across the leather upholstered seat, then lifted G's bound wrists and hooked the chain of the cuffs around the raised headrest behind him, leaving Callen stretched back with his elbows pointing up towards the roof. As Sam slid into the seat beside him, G took the opportunity to look his partner full in the face for the first time. What he saw made his heart skip a beat, then start pounding. Sam's eyes were dark and hungry, his gaze thick with desire.

 _Son of a bitch._ This wasn't an op; it was a sex game.


	2. Games

The light in the back seat of Callen's BMW was dim at best. The car headlights provided the only illumination in the warehouse, and the little that bounced back from that large, empty space was not enough to dispel the shadows. But it was enough for Callen to make out details of the car's interior, and the expression on his partner's face.

The whole evening had been an elaborate scam for Sam's amusement. The realisation both angered and aroused Callen. He wrestled with the handcuffs, but they were too well hooked around the headrest behind him. Sam saw the fight in G's eyes and seemed to feed off it.

"So, _Jason_ ," he said, voice hushed. "Now we really are all alone."

"What do you want?" G asked, even though the answer was painfully clear. It seemed the temptation was too great for him to resist playing along. His dick was already getting hard, and he had missed Sam's touch so badly these last weeks.

"I want the money," Sam replied, his beautiful smile tinged with shark-like menace.

 _So_ , G thought. _He wants to play 'bad cop'._ "The money's gone," he said.

"Is that right," Sam said, letting his eyes stray to the hollow of Callen's throat. "See, I have a problem believing that five million dollars can just vanish into thin air."

"We never had it," Callen went on. "We were set up. The four of us went to jail, and that JAG cocksucker took the money. I _swear_."

Sam looked thoughtful, and reached into a pocket in his jacket. He took out a sheathed army issue knife and placed it on the seat between them.

"That's an interesting theory," he said. He set his SIG down carefully beside the knife. "But your three buddies turned up dead a couple of weeks back, and then Lieutenant Corby was killed, so I'm favouring the theory that since you're still very much alive, you found out about Corby and set him up to take the fall."

"Jesus Christ, that's insane. I never even knew about Corby until he was already dead. And I never got so much as a dime." Callen eyed the weapons nervously. "Why are we even having this conversation? The feds got the money back. There _is_ no money. They caught Corby, and found the five mil. End of story." He gave another tug at his cuffs for effect.

"Well, that's the thing, because you see," – Sam lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal his NCIS badge, and a section of dark, delicious skin – "I _am_ a fed. And we never did track down that cash."

"This is bullshit." Callen added a note of desperation to his voice now. "Do you think I'd be drinking on my own in a shitty little bar if I had five million bucks stashed away?"

"Come on, Jason. You may not be _very_ smart, but you're smart enough to keep things low-key for a while after a full-blown federal investigation."

Callen was breathing hard, partly from the stretched position he was in, and partly from the craving that was burning him up. The way Sam's eyes were roving so very casually all over him made his blood pump harder. It was a struggle to organise his thoughts enough to form a sentence.

"Maybe you should be looking closer to home," he said. "How do you know someone else at the agency didn't take it? They'd be able to cover their tracks a lot better than I ever could. I bet you're not the only dirty agent in NCIS."

"Dirty?" Sam echoed with a slight raise of his eyebrows. He picked up the knife and eased it from its sheath, admiring the blade for a moment before looking back at Callen. "Are you really in a position to be calling _me_ dirty? A corrupt MP fresh out of jail for taking a payoff from the thieves he was supposed to be catching?" He lowered his voice and spoke softly, almost sensuously. "You're a nasty piece of work, Tedrow. I think it would take more than a spell in the brig to change your spots."

Before Callen could respond, Sam reached out and grabbed the front of his borrowed shirt. He put the point of the knife to a spot above Callen's navel and slid the blade cleanly into the fabric, then slashed upwards, opening it all the way to the collar.

"Jesus, what are you doing?" Callen gasped as Sam tore the two sides of the shirt apart, baring his torso. He failed to hold back the shudder of excitement that ran through him as the cool air and Sam's hot gaze met his skin.

"Deciding where to start," Sam replied.

"Start what?"

Sam turned the knife slowly in his hand, eyes travelling from Callen's throat to his waistband and back. He didn't reply.

"Look, please just listen to me," Callen went on. "I wish I had that money. Christ, I would like nothing more. I was going to buy a place in Hawaii, maybe open a bar..."

"Find a girl, settle down?" Sam mocked.

"And what's wrong with that? I gave blood, sweat and tears for this country, first as a Marine, then as an MP. I deserved a better reward than what I got."

"Why do you think _I'm_ after the money?" Sam replied.

"Exactly, you understand," Callen pushed. "So why would I spend four years rotting in the brig when I could have been out of here, living my dream?"

Sam calmly pressed the flat of the blade to Callen's neck. It was cold. "Because all four shares are better than one," he said.

"Fuck," Callen breathed, and closed his eyes. He was ready to beg Sam to stop talking and start touching him, but he had a stubborn nature, and was loath to be the first to drop the act. "Okay, tell me, why didn't I just kill the others the first time around and save myself a whole lot of time? "

"Maybe you didn't know where the money went," said Sam. "But we know Joey Gale was piecing it together, and that he contacted you once he was out of prison. I guess he had a lot to tell you before you murdered him."

Callen opened his eyes again and met his partner's dark gaze. He wondered how Sam could remain so calm. He must be just as turned on as Callen; this little game was his design, after all. Usually G was the one to tease and manipulate, while Sam was straightforward and passionate. But his hot blood seemed to have cooled tonight. While Sam argued effortlessly, Callen was finding it increasingly difficult to herd his own thoughts in the right direction.

"Why won't you give up?" Callen said at last. "You're a trained federal agent. You must know when someone's telling you the truth. So let's just get this over with."

His throat moved against the blade as he spoke, and he was acutely aware of the sharp edge at his windpipe. He'd had knives at his throat before, but in this context – with someone he trusted, whose intentions were far from deadly – it was a completely new experience. He'd had plenty of rough sex, too, but again this was different. To be kept on the edge like this, longing for the next sensation, be it pleasure or pain – it was an unexpected high, elevated further by his physical confinement.

"I'm not ready to end this just yet, J," Sam said. "I still think you have something I want."

"I don't have anything," Callen replied. He breathed harder, not caring that it made the knife press closer against his skin. "Take the car, it's all I have that's worth shit."

"It _is_ a nice car." Sam's smile returned, wicked and sexy. "Seems a shame to make a mess of it."

He lowered the knife, and smoothed the pad of his thumb over the spot where the blade had bitten into Callen's flesh. Callen felt the slickness of moisture there. The knife had drawn blood. Sam lifted his thumb to his mouth and licked it clean. He tilted his head a little, watching Callen watching him, then, bracing one arm against the car door beside his prisoner, leaned his body in close to Callen's. He lowered his face to G's throat and ran his tongue across the broken skin.

Callen bit hard on his lower lip, breathing in Sam's smell and silently willing him to keep on going, lower and lower. It took a few heartbeats of that heavenly feeling before he remembered to fight back.

"You sick bastard, what are you doing?" He had to forcibly change the moan in his voice into something more hostile. "I'm not into this kind of shit."

Sam raised his head and looked Callen in the eye, their faces mere inches apart. "Oh? What exactly are you 'not into'?"

"That... sexual shit. It's perverted. I'm not fucking queer." It was not something G himself would ever have said, even if he'd been one hundred per cent straight. But it was the kind of thing that would have tripped easily off the tongue of good ol' Jason Tedrow. Callen watched the look in his partner's eyes, hoping his words might hit a nerve and goad Sam into a more aggressive approach. But Sam just seemed pleased.

"I spy something in your jeans that seems to disagree, J," he said, and pulled back, lowering his eyes. The knife was still in his hand, and now he touched its point very, very gently to Callen's inner thigh. Callen tensed, holding his breath as Sam trailed the knife slowly over the denim, up to where G's erection strained against his pants, the touch of the lethal blade no more than the lightest caress of a lover.

The teasing was sweet agony. Callen's impulse was to push up against Sam to increase the pressure of their contact, but under the circumstances... that would have been a _bad_ move. He fought to keep his hips from writhing.

"Stop," he whispered. He closed his eyes to prevent further distraction.

"I can't hear you," Sam said. He must have discarded the knife then, because a moment later Callen felt both of Sam's hands travel up his thighs, pushing them apart. "If you want me to stop, you're going to have to ask louder than that." His thumb stroked along G's aching cock. There was no holding back the wordless moan this time.

"Say it, Jason," Sam urged. His fingers reached Callen's belt and started working on the buckle. "Tell me to stop."

"Stop," Callen growled, his eyes still clamped shut. Now Sam was unbuttoning him, tugging at the zipper on his jeans... "Oh, God, please stop," G begged as his jeans and boxers were dragged over his hips and down past his knees, baring him to Sam's hungry stare. A shiver ran through him. His body was too sensitive, insanely turned on, ready to come at the slightest touch. But no touch came.

Callen felt Sam pull away, and a moment later heard the sound of his partner shrugging off his jacket. He opened his eyes. It was a warm night, and Sam was wearing just a tank top under his leather. The fabric clung distractingly tightly to his chest, leaving his tattooed arms bare. G watched, waiting for him to shed the rest of his clothes. He could never tire of seeing Sam strip. That muscular body was a work of art. But Sam had caught G's eyes roving and stopped. He smirked.

"See something you like?" he asked.

Callen tilted his head back and stared up at the roof of the car in defiance. Sam leaned down into the foot well and dragged off Callen's boots and half-shed jeans, leaving him naked apart from the ruined shirt that still framed his chest. Next Sam reached up and unhooked the handcuffs from around the headrest, allowing Callen to lower his arms, but made no move to unshackle him. G had been too distracted all this time to notice his hands going numb, and now he felt the stab of pins and needles as the blood started to flow back into his fingers.

"Get up on your knees" Sam told him.

"Fuck you," Callen replied, moving to shield his body from sight.

The provocation had the desired effect. Sam grabbed Callen by the arms and manoeuvred him roughly until he was kneeling on the seat, facing the car door with his back against Sam's chest. Sam slid one arm around G's waist and pressed himself close into the line of his partner's body. Callen revelled in every sensation: the heat from Sam's arm encircling him, the fabric of Sam's jeans against his bare thighs, the cold shapes of the badge and belt buckle digging into his skin. Through the jeans he could feel Sam's cock, thick and hard against his ass.

"You feel good, J," Sam whispered in his ear as he trailed a hand up Callen's thigh. "And you're _mine_ now."

He pulled the shirt down off Callen's shoulders and lowered his mouth to G's neck. Callen couldn't bring himself to argue with that last comment. His eyelids flickered closed as Sam took hold of his erection and started moving his hand up and down it with a gentle pressure, nibbling and sucking at G's neck while he handled him. After being neglected for so long, the contact was almost too much for Callen. He could feel the electric thrill of an orgasm starting to build in his spine. He needed Sam inside him.

Either Sam could sense G's need or he was no longer able to control his own, because he tore himself away and started to undress. Callen listened to the subtle sounds Sam made as he unbuckled his belt and rummaged in a pocket of his fallen jacket, then the soft catching of breath G recognised as a sign that his partner was applying lube to himself. It no longer surprised him that Sam had come so fully prepared.

A moment later Sam moved back against him. Callen moaned as Sam's slick cock nudged at him.

"You want this?" Sam murmured, tilting his hips a little.

"Yes," G said hoarsely. In fact he felt like he would die if he didn't have it.

"I want to hear you beg me," Sam said, breath hot in Callen's ear, every word making G shiver.

Callen let out a gruff sound of frustration, some small part of him still resisting full surrender, however inevitable it may be. That part finally shattered as Sam's lubricated fingers wrapped around G's dick and squeezed.

"Beg," Sam ordered.

"God _, fuck me,_ " Callen gasped. "Please, just fuck me. I can't take it any more."

In response Sam began to push at the entrance to G's ass, gradually working himself deeper and deeper. Callen moaned, braced his hands against the car window in front of him and pushed back onto Sam, wanting every inch of him inside.

"Oh, God," Sam breathed. "That feels good."

Once he was as deep as he could go, he held still for a while, adjusting to the sensations, wanting to keep his own orgasm at bay for as long as possible. He pulled out slowly, so slowly, a fraction at a time, then thrust back in hard. He repeated the motion over and over, and Callen arched back, biting down on his lip every time to keep from crying out. There was no one around to hear them, but it was all he could do to hold himself together.

As always when Sam was inside him, Callen's mind was thrown apart, the world shrinking until it contained only the two of them, the places where their bodies met and merged. It was the most blissful release from the rigours of his life – and from himself – that Callen had ever known. He had never voiced this fact to Sam. Part of him believed that his lover must understand, that something this powerful could not be confined to his own self but must be the result of an absolute union between them. A different part of him feared that he was alone in this experience, that by being penetrated he was the one who was opened up, overwhelmed.

Sam was all around Callen as well as inside him. He continued to pump his hand up and down G's cock while he fucked him, bringing him right to the brink.

"Jesus Christ, I'm going to come," G moaned. "Oh, God, Sam..."

"Oh, no you don't," Sam said, and withdrew from him completely. "I want to see you when you come." Callen instantly ached at the loss and turned toward his partner. Sam sat back on his heels and dragged G into his lap. Callen's cuffed wrists went around Sam's neck as he was dragged close, and their mouths met at long last. Their bodies twined and ground together as they kissed, tongues probing and teeth biting at lips in their greed for each other.

Sam laid Callen down on his back on the cramped back seat, aligned their bodies and pushed inside him again with a low moan of pleasure. He rocked his hips against G, starting out smooth and steady, but before long his rhythm became faster and more desperate as the need overtook him. He grabbed Callen's ass and tilted him higher to gain deeper access. Knowing he couldn't hold back much longer, he resumed stroking Callen's erection, keen to bring his partner to climax first. Before long G was digging his fingers hard into Sam's back, his body tightening around Sam's cock, breath coming in short bursts.

"Come for me, G," Sam told him, speeding up the motions of his hand and hips.

Sam's words tipped Callen over the edge and his orgasm hit, rolling through his body like a shockwave. He bucked wildly underneath Sam and let out a cry of ecstasy as his dick jerked in Sam's tight hold. Sam watched G's face as his head tipped back, eyes closed and mouth gasping in the grip of his climax. The energy from it seemed to flood directly into Sam and a moment later he was coming too, unable to hold back from slamming hard into Callen, the force of his movements making the whole car rock. He sagged forward onto his trembling arms as the last spasms shook him.

G reached for Sam's face and pulled him down into a kiss, slow and sweet now as their heartbeats calmed and the sweat on their bodies cooled. They lay in silence for a while, savouring each other's warmth and the afterglow of incredible sex.

"You're kind of amazing, you know," Callen murmured at last, nuzzling at the line of Sam's jaw.

Sam smiled. Coming from G, a man of few tender words, the compliment was as close to a gushing declaration of love as he was likely to hear. "You're just saying that so I'll make you breakfast."

"Do you always invite the criminals you've abducted to sleep over?"

"Only the hot ones," Sam said. He lowered his face for another kiss. "And who said anything about sleep?"


	3. Bare Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to point out that I based this fic off a timeline I worked out from the episode 'Past Lives'. According to the ep, the undercover op where Callen used the Jason Tedrow alias must have taken place around five years earlier, and Callen and Sam were already working together at that time. So that's the time frame I've used here. But I've since rewatched earlier episodes which say that Sam and G had only worked together for three years by early season 1, so yeesh I dunno. I don't think the writers pay attention sometimes, lol. Anyway thought I'd mention it in case of confusion.
> 
> Also, please stop by my new NCIS:LA FAN FORUM! Any and all pairings, fics, fanart etc welcome. The link can be found in my profile.

The following day was torture. Callen never slept a lot, but last night had been particularly restless – in the best possible way, of course, but his body was suffering for it now. After their surprise 'date' at the warehouse they had gone back to Sam's place and continued to make up for lost time. Sam's stamina had always been impressive; on this occasion it had been getting light outside before they had finally given in to sleep.

He could have coped with the tiredness and the aching if they'd been sent out to work a case. As it was, Hetty chose this of all days to bury his desk beneath a mountain of unfinished paperwork that had been building up over the last few weeks. For once, he'd actually had good reason to delay working on his reports. Like Sam, like Eric, like everyone on the team, he had been putting every spare moment into researching what had happened to Dom. But there was no point making excuses to Hetty, no matter how worthy.

"No rest for the _wicked_ , Mr Callen," was all she had said in response to his crestfallen expression, before gliding away in that slightly sinister way of hers. He had stared balefully after her, and felt that now-familiar chill of paranoia that somehow, perhaps through some mystical sixth sense, Hetty knew everything about his private life. And last night had been rather wicked, and _particularly_ private. It had also involved the clandestine use of Jason Tedrow's personal effects, and – far more serious – a shirt from Hetty's meticulously organised wardrobe. A shirt Sam had subsequently destroyed in the course of their fun and games. Which Hetty couldn't possibly know... But that didn't stop Callen from feeling like a schoolboy on detention.

The day dragged by hour by agonising hour. Sam and Kensi were occupied with tasks both in and out of the office, and breezed past his desk countless times. Nate seemed at a loose end, and wandered into the bullpen more than once to try and engage in Callen in conversation. After the last snarled response from Callen, he had wisely turned on his heel and made himself scarce.

The paperwork made Callen's already sluggish mind grind to a halt. He spent the morning drinking imprudent amounts of coffee in an effort to counter his tiredness, but this resulted only in an unpleasant buzzing sensation in his head and more frequent trips to the bathroom.

Around noon, Callen returned to his chair and slapped down a freshly-printed expenses report onto the woefully small 'complete' pile on Kensi's desk, which for today's purposes had become an extension of his own. He took the next bundle of papers from the larger stack in front of him and flipped through the pages. Reports from the recent bank case, and the heist they had staged in collaboration with the LAPD; Sam's report, Kensi and Renko's reports, a copy of Detective Bernhart's report, a host of other associated documents... He dropped it back onto the desktop with a sigh. The tedium made his mind wander, and today it had only one destination: the cramped back seat of his BMW, parked up in a deserted warehouse.

Callen let his eyes slide closed and rolled his head on his neck, working out some of the tension. It was useless trying to block out the night before. Particularly with the sex-laden glances Sam had been shooting him at every opportunity, usually with a knowing half-smile playing on his lips. Callen pictured those lush lips on his body, the warm tongue working against his skin, and shifted awkwardly in his seat. God, how the hell was he supposed to get through a day of desk work when his body was locked in battle between a head full of sleep and a permanent hard-on? He'd already had to make an additional trip to the men's room that morning to take care of his physical distraction; now it seemed a second visit may be in order.

There was something else gnawing at his mind, though. Something that lent a sour aftertaste to the otherwise delectable memories. As great as last night had been, it was out of character for his partner. Sam was a creature of habit, a master of strict regimen; he was hot-blooded and passionate, certainly, but also steady. Dependable. His approach to sex, like work or friendship or anything else within his sphere of existence, was energetic yet straightforward. The meticulous planning of last night's game was Sam's style; the rough 'bad cop' role play was not. It flashed up a warning sign for Callen. Observation was a key skill in their line of work, and one of the golden rules was that changes in outward behaviour flagged up changes under the surface, and foreshadowed more drastic events.

What had changed for Sam? There was the obvious worry about Dom, which seemed to be torturing Sam worse than anyone else. But he was handling that pain in his typical energetic yet straightforward fashion: by taking it out on his own body. Beating the crap out of gym equipment, running for miles at night as well as first thing in the morning. No, Sam was dealing with something else, something different. Callen thought he knew what it might be, but he backed off from thinking about it. It was a can of worms he was wary of opening.

Nevertheless, as the afternoon crawled towards evening, he _did_ think about it. As a result his mood worsened by the hour. At six, Sam jogged downstairs from the ops centre where he had been assisting Eric with the translation of some suspect communications coming out of Yemen. Callen was standing at his desk, shuffling his remaining paperwork into more manageable piles. He heard Sam and Kensi's voices but didn't tune in. He didn't even glance up until Sam slung his bag over his shoulder and walked by Callen's desk.

"I'm heading off, G." Sam placed his hand against the small of Callen's back where no one would notice. "You coming with?" he added quietly.

Callen went on sorting his papers, frowning down at them. "No," he replied. "I still have this to finish. I'll come by later."

"Make sure you do," Sam said, stroking a little circle on Callen's back, and Callen could hear the smile in his voice.

Within the hour, Hetty left too. Callen glanced up as she paused by the bullpen to wrap a patterned scarf around her neck.

"Goodnight, Mr Callen," she said with a nod of her head. "Don't work too late. Judging by the number of empty coffee cups in your waste basket, you've already been burning the candle at both ends."

Callen smiled and bid her goodnight, then watched as she vanished into the corridor. Once she was safely out of the building, and Callen had heard her car roar out of its parking spot, he went to the records room and returned Jason Tedrow's wallet and watch to their steel box. He had planned to do this much earlier in the day, but had never found a moment when he could be sure Hetty's eagle eye was not upon him. He secured the box away with a strong sense of relief that was caused by more than just successfully avoiding Hetty. He was glad to see the Tedrow alias shelved again. Maybe for good this time.

He returned to his desk heavy-hearted. Normally he would have been falling over himself to get out of work and end the day's pen-pushing, especially when it meant getting Sam all to himself, but he found himself stalling again, putting off his departure until he had finished this one last form; now _this_ one. All he wanted to do was eat, shower and have slow, sleepy sex before crashing out for the night. In reality there was likely to be an uncomfortable, perhaps painful conversation about things he would love to avoid but knew he could not.

Finally the anticipation of that conversation became worse than just getting it over with, so he got up, stretched, and delivered the 'completed' pile to Hetty's desk. As a cheeky yet affectionate gesture he placed a piece of candy from his desk drawer on top. Callen knew Hetty would give him a hard time for not finishing all the work, but secretly she would be pleased that he'd done this much. It was one of many unspoken rules of their relationship. They both understood that Hetty would never fashion him into a bureaucrat, wouldn't want to, but she could crack her teacherly whip and make him knuckle down to desk work as long as it helped him to get by. She was a lot to him – mentor, colleague, friend, even guardian – and he would do just about anything for her. She was one of only two people who had learned how to see through his many protective layers to the man underneath.

The other, of course, was Sam.

* * *

Callen parked a street away from Sam's house and covered the remaining distance on foot. It was just one among dozens of little strategies they used to maintain secrecy, in daily life as well as in the specific context of their relationship. He went up the steps to Sam's front door and let himself in as he always did.

The living room was deserted, but after pausing to listen, Callen could hear Sam moving about in the bedroom. He slid off his jacket and tossed it along with his backpack onto the couch. The smell of food captured his attention and he wandered through to the kitchen. He soon sniffed out a dish of homemade lasagne that was keeping warm in the oven. One large serving was missing from the dish; Sam had already eaten, but had been sure to make enough for his partner too. Callen couldn't help but smile. Sam always took such good care of him.

Callen heard footsteps on the linoleum.

"Hey," Sam said, sliding his arms around Callen's waist from behind. "You hungry?"

"Starved."

Sam reached over to adjust the heat on the oven. Callen turned in Sam's arms to face him. Sam was freshly showered and changed, and Callen caught the faint tang of his shower gel on his dark skin.

"So did you finish your paperwork?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, but then my dog ate it. Unbelievable."

Sam smiled and planted a kiss on Callen's lips. "I couldn't stop thinking about you today," he said, pulling Callen in closer. He kissed the peak of G's cheekbone, just beneath the corner of his eye. "About everything we did last night." He ran his hands up Callen's sides. The next kiss fell close to G's ear. "About all the things I want to do to you again."

"Do you have _any_ idea how hard it is to file accounts reports when there's a hot guy having eye-sex with you across the office?" Callen said. His hands slid over Sam's chest.

"There's a hot guy having eye-sex with you across the office every day," Sam teased.

"But it's not _every_ day I get stuck in paperwork purgatory when I'm already extremely distracted," Callen replied, "And exhausted, after said hot guy got frisky and decided to keep me up all night."

"Poor baby," said Sam. "I'll try to behave myself better." He lowered his head further and started kissing G's neck just below the jawline. "But I'm not promising anything..." he said against G's throat. Callen closed his eyes and breathed Sam in, dangerously close to seduction once again. If he let himself go now, he would never have his intended talk with Sam. Plus he'd probably pass out halfway through sex from lack of energy. He sighed and took Sam's face between his hands, turning it back toward his own.

"Easy," he said softly. "Mind if I eat first?"

Sam smiled. "See? I really can't behave myself around you." He placed one last kiss on G's forehead before pulling away. "Go sit down, the food'll be ready in a minute."

Callen complied. He sat at the table and watched fondly as Sam moved with his trademark efficiency around the kitchen. He fetched G a chilled can of beer from the refrigerator, then a few minutes later set down a plate of lasagne and steamed vegetables. Callen dove straight into his meal. Sam poured himself a glass of water and took the seat perpendicular to G. He made small talk as he watched Callen eat. After scraping his plate clean, Callen leaned back in his chair with a groan of satisfaction.

"You're way too good for me, you know that?"

Sam grinned. "I know."

Callen moved to clear his plate, but Sam took it from him. Callen sat back obligingly and worked on his beer while Sam cleared up.

"What was last night all about?" The question bubbled up from him without warning.

Sam looked a little surprised. "Exactly what it looked like." He leaned against the worktop and gave G a flirtatious up-and-down look. "Fun."

"Fun?" Callen replied. "Normally when you want to have some fun, you just ask me to come home with you. Or you send me a text that says _Hey, G, I want to have some fun._ You've never set something like that up before."

"So maybe I'm not as predictable as you think I am." Sam shrugged. "I wanted to try something new."

"Out of the blue like that? After you've been keeping me at arm's length for weeks?" Callen shook his head. "It's not like you, Sam. I've certainly never seen you get so into role play before."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Is that a complaint?" His mouth turned up in a sexy smile. Clearly he was set on derailing Callen's questioning. He walked back to the table and sat down.

"Are you kidding me?" Callen tried to suppress the physical thrill that ran through him as he pictured being cuffed, toyed with and blissfully fucked. "I had to go and jerk off twice today just to keep the blood flowing to my head."

Sam gave a little growl and leaned forward, running a hand up Callen's thigh. "Now why didn't you tell me that at the time? I could have offered my assistance."

"You know the rule," said Callen. "No sex at work."

"Not even to help my partner out with his paperwork?"

"Mmmm." Callen's hips tipped forward slightly as Sam's fingers teased at the front of his jeans.

He caught Sam's wrist and squeezed. "I'm serious. There's something else going on here. With you."

Sam pulled his hand away and sat back. He looked hard at Callen. "Nothing's going on, G." His voice was even, gaze level. But Callen wasn't convinced.

"I know how worried you've been about Dom. We all are," he said. "You've been taking too much responsibility for it, and you keep on punishing yourself. But last night – despite all the fun we had, I think on some level... it was about you punishing _me_." He paused. "Sam, are you angry with me about something?"

"No."

"It's not about Dom. If you blamed me for that, I would have known earlier."

Sam flicked his tongue over his lips, but not seductively. His patience was starting to fray.

"It's about Jason Tedrow. You never mentioned why you chose that particular alias for your little game."

"No reason."

"Bullshit." Callen peered at Sam through narrowed eyes. "It's about me and that case." Sam's face remained impassive, so Callen added, "When I was with Kristin Donnelly."

Callen saw it then: Sam's top lip gave an involuntary twitch, and his eyes flashed for a split second. After a moment he broke eye contact.

"I knew it," Callen muttered.

"Of course. You know everything," Sam snapped. "Now, have you finished psychoanalysing me, or would you like to get Nate on conference call to help explain my sexual inclinations?"

"No, I haven't finished."

"Well I have." He scraped his chair back and stood up.

"Sam-"

"I don't want to do this now."

"That's what's worrying me. It's not like you to avoid an issue," Callen said. Sam stalked over to the worktop where he stood rigidly, his arms folded in a defensive wall across his chest. "But I know this has been bothering you, so until we talk about it, I'll know you're just pretending to be okay."

Sam stood staring out the window, and he gave a tight smile and shook his head as Callen spoke. "That's good, hearing you talk about pretending. About avoiding the issues."

Callen looked down at his hands on the tabletop, and nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm the master of it." He exhaled heavily. "But I guess you've rubbed off on me after all." Sam remained silent and still. "Look, you already made it clear that you didn't like the way I handled that case. I get it. I didn't like it either, but it was the best way in, and I got the results. That's our profession. So why are you taking it personally? This isn't something that should come between us."

His eyes burned into Sam's broad back, watching the tensed shoulders rise and fall, but he still got no response.

"God, Sam, will you talk to me? What was the deal with making me bring Tedrow back out? You wanted to reclaim me as your own by fucking the alias who _cheated_ on you, is that it? Because you should know that's ridiculous."

"I should know?" Sam turned his head at last. "How can I know what you don't tell me? I don't know what that woman was to you. You keep brushing me off, saying it was nothing, it's just the job, but I have eyes, G. I saw the way you looked at her. What do you think that felt like? Finding out that you'd been that close to someone while I was away, after what happened between us before I left?"

"Sam, it _was_ just a job," Callen shot back. "I was playing a part. What did you expect me to do? Tell Hetty and the Director that no, sorry, I'm not taking this assignment because I'm seeing someone? I didn't go out and pick up some chick because I was lonely, Sam. I would never have started a relationship like that unless I had to. And I had to. Kristin was the only way in." He rubbed his eyes, feeling frustrated and weary. "You know how it works. What we do. Sometimes we have to give up more of ourselves than we want."

"I know that."

"So why are you still so mad at me?"

"Because you _lied_ to me, G," Sam yelled in reply. He grabbed his water glass from the counter and hurled it into the sink where it shattered. The sound was as loud and angry as a gunshot. "We're partners. Lovers. Friends. We've shared _everything_. I've given more of myself to you than anyone else in my entire life. And I thought I'd finally gotten the whole story about you too, but now I find out you hid all of this from me. If it was so meaningless, tell me why you kept it from me. _Tell me_."

Callen sat, stunned, and stared back at his furious partner. "I –" His mouth was suddenly bone dry. He shook his head. "I just wanted to put it in the past. As soon as I was done with that case, I just wanted to close the lid on it and move on. And it's not as though you've never kept anything from me. You never told me about Moe until a few weeks ago."

"Oh, you wanna go there?" Sam's eyes flashed dangerously. Callen inwardly cursed himself, and his big stupid mouth. "First, I wasn't _fucking_ Moe," Sam went on. "And second, that happened before I even met you. Not in the few months we spent apart."

"Look, I didn't go behind your back. It was just chance that the job came in while you were away in Afghanistan. And when you got home, I was just so relieved to have you back. I didn't want to think about Tedrow any more, never mind explain it all to you. As far as I was concerned, it had never happened."

"But it _did_ happen, G," Sam raged. "You didn't _imagine_ sleeping with her, you really did it." Callen's face fell. "She remembers it. And so do you. I _saw_ how you acted around her."

"You didn't see what you think you did." Callen put his hands up. "Look, I do care about Kristin. I care about what happens to her because she's a good person, and she didn't deserve any of this; she didn't deserve to have a thief for a brother, or for me to manipulate her in order to get to him. And she sure as hell didn't deserve for me to turn up again years later and open up all those old wounds. But that's as far as it goes, okay? I was never in love with her, Sam. Please believe that."

"You enjoyed it," Sam said. His voice was rough with emotion, and his eyes blazed with it, so much that Callen could hardly bear to look. "Hetty said as much. That you enjoyed being Tedrow more than any other alias. Are you going to tell me that wasn't because of _her?_ "

"No, Sam-"

"And you just went on and rubbed it in my face. The night after you last saw her, when we went out with the team, you sang that song. _To All the Girls I've Loved Before_. How do you think that made me feel?"

"Oh, Christ." Callen's mind reeled. He had badly underestimated the depths of Sam's feelings on this, and the realisation was devastating. "Sam, I swear, that song had nothing to do with her. God, I never even connected the two together." He got to his feet and paced across the room. "Look, that case – I wasn't in a good place when it came along," he explained. "You'd just gone away, and I was having kind of a hard time dealing with it." He turned and paced back again, hands on his hips, staring at the floor. "So... I took the opportunity to bury myself in a different life. To escape being in my own head all the time, thinking about you." His brow creased in a deep frown. "I know that makes me a coward. I always have been when it comes to things like this. But I'd never felt like that before, Sam." He looked up at last. Sam had been watching him the whole time, and his gaze didn't falter now, but Callen struggled to meet his eye for fear of being overwhelmed. It was difficult enough to open up this far; he felt as though anything more could turn him inside out.

"I've spent my whole life moving on," he said. "Putting things behind me, forgetting about them and dealing with what came next. I wasn't used to missing someone. So I took advantage of the distraction. After all, being Tedrow was my job, right? By getting deeper into that world, spending more time with Kristin and John and the other guys, I was just making sure the mission went the way it was supposed to. At least that's what I kept telling myself." He fell silent.

"I didn't have an escape from it, G," Sam said. His voice was still ragged, but quieter now. "I may have been stuck out there in a war zone, working the mission, trying to keep myself and my team alive. But I still thought about you all the time. Wondered what things would be like when I came home. If it was going to go anywhere; if it had just been a one-night thing. I questioned it all the time." Callen still couldn't bring himself to look in Sam's eyes, but in the edge of his vision he saw Sam shake his head. "I get why you did it. I know you had a job to do. And I can understand that in some way it made things easier for you. God, I _hate_ to think of you being with someone else; of course I do. It tears me apart. But that's not what hurt me the most." He took a step closer to Callen. "You never told me, even after everything I shared with you. And then – you must have seen what it did to me when I found out. But you just shrugged it off like it didn't even matter."

Callen sighed and ran his hands over his face. "I was scared," he admitted. "When I saw that kid, I was terrified. It completely threw me off guard when I realised he could be mine. I thought that episode of my life was all boxed up and dealt with and then suddenly... there's this blue-eyed kid staring at me, and I was afraid I'd _really_ screwed everything up." He leaned back against the table, looking deflated. "I know, I was selfish. I was so caught up in myself that I didn't stop to think how you must be feeling. But maybe – I guess on some level I was avoiding it deliberately, not wanting to admit why I'd lied to you." He took a deep breath which did not seem to go anywhere; all of him felt airless and rigid. "And then so much happened. Dom went missing the next day and all our attention was on that..." Callen's voice trailed off, leaving only the ringing silence of the kitchen.

He was surprised at how much he had said; even more amazed at how much was still left to say. What he had thought were small pockets of feeling turned out to be openings into deep wells. He wanted to share everything in those deep, dark spaces with Sam, who had long since earned the privilege to know the very best and worst of Callen. But the process of telling it was painful and draining, which made him respect Sam even more for his bold honesty.

Sam moved towards him, and Callen could sense his need to reach out and connect to heal the rift. He held up a hand to stop him.

"Please, Sam. I need to explain this to you." Sam held back and waited. Callen closed his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts into words. "I've told you about my past," Callen began. "You know that before you, I hadn't been with a guy for a long time. I spent most of my adult life just going through the motions, dating women, assuming that was... 'regular'.

"I am attracted to women. But... Being with women, sexually, never felt all that real to me. It's something that happens outside of myself, and I feel like more of an observer. But when-" He shifted awkwardly. It was hard work, pushing a lifetime's build-up of feelings through the narrow filter of language. "With men, it's different. It always was. And with you, it's magnified.

"That first time with you, before you went away, it changed everything. It was amazing, of course it was, but it was intense. I wasn't used to anything that intimate. And the next day you were gone, and without you there to work through it together, it felt as raw as an open wound. So I dealt with it the way I always had. We're different, Sam. You've always valued honesty, but I've usually run from it. I've hidden myself and my feelings all my life. So even though being with you is the best thing that's ever happened to me, it's also been _terrifying_ at times. It's scary for me to be opened up the way I am with you."

Callen's shoulders ached, and he realised that as he had been talking he had slowly curled in on himself. His arms were clamped tight around his chest and his head hung down towards the ground, as though his body were trying to hold everything inside even as he spilled it verbally. He loosened his arms a little but did not let them drop.

"What I'm trying to tell you, Sam, is that you should never feel threatened by anything I've done with anybody else, because none of that is real, not to me. You're what's real. And I'm sorry for everything I've done to hurt you. I know I've fucked up a lot, and I try to learn from it every time, but I still have a way to go. And..." He shook his head. "I really don't know why you take so much of my shit."

* * *

Sam shook as he released the breath he had been holding. Now that his anger had drained away, the argument had left him with a heavy ache like a rock on his chest. But Callen's words countered the pain. In five years, Callen had never found it easy to say _I love you_. But to Sam, the words he did say meant so much more, because he was voicing his feelings in terms that were entirely his own, using words that were painful and awkward to speak, but all the more beautiful for it.

He approached G and, taking him by both wrists, gently unwrapped G's arms from around his chest. Callen's eyes remained closed, but Sam let it be, and pulled him close.

"I take your shit," Sam said, "Because I love you. And because the thought of not being with you scares the hell out of me." His voice caught on the words, and Callen grabbed for him and kissed him hard. They clutched each other tightly as they sought to show the other that he was loved, that he was forgiven, that his fears were unfounded. Their lips spoke volumes without the need for words.

In the living room, Sam's phone started to ring, but they ignored it. They kissed and held on tightly until it was no longer enough and they were hard for each other and needed to be closer.

The closest they could get.


End file.
